


The Framing of Sophie Hatter

by quillslinger



Category: Howl no Ugoku Shiro | Howl's Moving Castle, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art School, Body Image, Confidence Glow Up, Designer Howl, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fashion & Couture, Fluff and Angst, Howl and Calcifer are Best Friends, Inspired by Fanart, Inspired by Twitter, Model Howl, Photographer Sophie, Photography, Rating May Change, Romance, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Visual Artist Calcifer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24311719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillslinger/pseuds/quillslinger
Summary: People say Howl is cruel.Sophie finds quite the opposite. He is lovely in all the ways that count.Somehow, that is the hardest realization to face.Sophie is a reclusive, ambitious photographer at the Royal College of the Arts in Ingary. In the male-dominated field of photography, Sophie plans to shine in both her assignments and the upcoming international fashion photography contest. She runs into an obstacle when she is partnered up with Howl Jenkins Pendragon, the infamous school heartthrob and her newest intrigue.Inspired by and based off of the original idea and fanart of@ToneattoGiuliaon Twitter.
Relationships: Sophie Hatter/Howl Pendragon
Comments: 104
Kudos: 327





	1. Meeting Miss Sophie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [@ToneattoGiulia](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%40ToneattoGiulia).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This is inspired by and based off of the original idea and fanart made by[@ToneattoGiulia](https://twitter.com/ToneattoGiulia/status/1261404612784873472) on Twitter. Please go check them out and support them! I hope you're all happy and safe._
> 
> Sophie meets a new friend.
> 
> _“He was now in that state of fire that she loved. She wanted to be burnt.”_  
>  ― Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus

The human eye is like a camera.

It captures everything it sees. Focusing in, blurring out. Even when you shut your eyes tight, you can see the colors dancing like sunspots behind your eyelids. Each picture taken by the eye is recorded, noted, and filed neatly away in your mind. The more new pictures you take, the more old ones that get overwritten. Discarded.

And like cameras, without the right lens, you cannot always see everything that may be present before you. 

You might miss something. And it might be important.

Sophie learned this lesson first.

The eyes of family...they did not capture her in all the illustrious, detailed and complex ways that she had imagined she should be perceived as a little girl. The categorizations came from outside of her, yet it was her own skin that they burrowed underneath and made a home, mortgage-free. 

Ordinary. Average.

 _Plain_.

Often, she was considered too plain, not worth the gloss on the magazine print of her sisters’ glittering hoard. Towers and mountains of bound photographic volumes, premiering the latest fashions and threads to don in that day and age. Vogue, Cosmopolitan, i-D, Nylon, Vanity Fair, Esquire, on and on and on the carousel went. The Hatter sisters had them all.

Even Sophie.

When she was young and her sisters were unborn, when she was still learning that eyes were like cameras...Sophie began to notice the mental pictures people took of one another. The images they drew up using the information they received from visuals alone.

Some people were believed to be more clever than they actually were. Some were considered more dull than what was true. Some were seen as stronger than their truths, and others weaker than their possibilities.

More than anything, Sophie noticed that people’s cameras often got things wrong.

Very wrong.

And yet, it did not stop the parade of pictures, oh, _no_. Everyone had their picture in the eyes of others.

Sophie was sharp enough to catch on early that her picture was often one discarded by others in terms of value. Fine. Nothing special, but fine. Just fine.

...But her sisters? They were photogenic down to their very bones. Every pretty, poreless angle, every perfectly shaped jawline or plump bow of kissable lips, all of it was beauty defined. Refined. Magnified and highlighted in all ways. Lettie, Martha, and Meghan may as well have been wood nymphs or sirens from legend itself.

They were beautiful. And they knew it. So they took many, many pictures.

It was Lettie who bought the first professional camera into their house. A far cry from the typical polaroids. _'To help her social media!'_ she'd said. From then on, the sisters took pictures of themselves and one another. Their mother enjoyed the vanity and encouraged it, saying that it was good exercise for their self-esteem to see themselves in such a pleasant light.

But Sophie did not think it was true, even then.

She did not think her pictures were beautiful. Not like her sisters. She was told so, by strangers outside the family who did not have the grace or tact or love that her relatives held for her, keeping them from saying anything hurtful.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about it in the beginning.

_'Perhaps beauty does not have to be so important for me, then? Maybe I don't need it.'_

A lie, of course. One to help sleep easy at night.

From then on, Sophie chose to take pictures of her sisters instead, watching them model and pose like swans. She realized that if she took her pictures in a certain way, if she captured a certain something, that the insecurities and woes on her sisters’ faces would slip away. They would cheer and beam, in awe at just how beautiful they could be in the eyes of Sophie.

Sophie _knew_ she was not beautiful. But she felt beautiful when she was making her sisters see themselves in a new light.

Soon, it wasn’t just her sisters she photographed. Her mother, her cousins, the mailman, the dog walkers, the stroller pushers, the doves, the mice, the fields, the skies, the sun, the moon, the stars. Everything. Sophie photographed everything.

It was behind the lens, where she felt strong. Important. Necessary and valued in her own, special way. She didn’t feel the immense anxiety and displeasure of laying herself out for another, in hopes of a ‘good’ photo when she knew she had none in her. There was no indecision on how to place her legs or arms, no confusion on how to be appealing when she felt like the most sexless, frigid thing in Ingary.

No. Behind the camera, her insecurities could remain hidden away. And her vulnerabilities could be spotlighted the best of ways. Artistically.

People may not have blinked twice at her face, but they couldn’t look away from her best photographic captures.

The photographs were her window to let others see inside. They were the pictures she could choose, unlike much else in her life. They would tell her story when her voice failed, they would show her griefs when her tears were nowhere to be found.

And so, though it was a huge surprise for her accomplished, fashionista stepmother and modelesque sisters, it was not a surprise to Sophie when she announced her decision at the dinner table one evening.

“I’ve been accepted to the Royal College of the Arts, in Ingary."

Her stepmother gasped, dropping her fork with a clatter as a smile arose on her face.

"Oh Sophie! You're going to learn to sew and run the hat shop? You should've told me...! Your father would be proud."

"No," Sophie explained, watching her stepmother's face fall. She tries to ignore the pang of hurt at the mention of her father. Whether he'd be proud or disappointed is irrelevant. He isn't here anymore.

"I’m going to study fashion photography.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Hatter worried, distractedly nipping at her nails, “how...unexpected...! I never saw this coming.”

 _'Well,'_ thought Sophie, _'you couldn't've. Your camera is too different from my own.'_

* * *

“Checking out some new finds?” a voice inquired near her.

Sophie shrugged, resurfacing out of her memories. It always took longer than anticipated, so she tried not to do it. Accidents happened, though.

“No. Old pictures. Reminiscing.”

“Ah,” her classmate noted, “that’s your family in that one, I assume?”

“Mhm.”

“Wow! Look at her! Your sister...?”

“Mother.”

“O-oh! She’s very beautiful. She doesn’t look like she’d be a mother.”

Sophie let the unsaid question hang in the air, unanswered.

 _‘How is the woman who birthed you so lovely when you’re so...?’_ No point in answering. Because then she'd have to explain it's her stepmother, and then she'd have to explain that's why her sisters were so pretty, and then they'd wonder if Sophie's biological mother was not pretty, to which she would have to respond that she was very beautiful but Sophie looked more like her father, who was no longer alive. And then it would all turn very awkward and tragic and sad, and it was too nice of a day to ruin it over unasked questions.

Her classmate accepted the silence as an answer and pressed on.

“Any siblings?”

Sophie clicked on the navigation button of her display, revealing flashing images of her sisters posing and smiling coquettishly at the viewer.

“ _God_...they’re all stunning!”

“Mm. They are.”

“You on the other hand, uh...captured them well!”

“I did,” Sophie felt the tension ease out of her muscles.

_'I really did, didn't I?'_

Her friend clapped her shoulder lightly, jostling her out of her thoughts. 

“Well, you’ve been staring into that tinny, old display for a while. Come and have lunch with the rest of us?”

Sophie shook her head, giving a small polite nod to her friend.

“I’m alright, thanks. I’ve got to decide on one for Thursday’s assignment."

"Seriously?"

Sophie turned to see her classmate looking exasperated by her unrelenting ways. It wouldn't be the first time schoolwork was prioritized over socializing. Sophie quickly thought of a defense.

"Professor Suliman is a difficult grader. You know that. I just...don't want to give her any reasons to be difficult, that's all.”

“Oh, _c’mon_ Sophie. You’re the only one that prepares this stuff in advance. You can afford to work a normal schedule like everyone else.”

Sophie paused for a moment before deciding to meet her friend halfway.

“I’ll decide on a picture in the next fifteen minutes. Then I’ll meet up with you all in the dining hall?”

“Alright, Sophie,” they allowed as they pulled away, "but remember! Fifteen minutes and not a second more!" Her friend walked away, leaving her to her wishes.

Sophie stood up, realizing she needed a quiet place to focus and select the perfect picture so she could join her friends in time for lunch. She didn’t like to break promises and she didn't like to be late.

_'Off to the secret garden, then.'_

Sophie hurried to her hideaway on the campus, grateful that is was nearby. The 'hideaway' was a small, hidden cove around the corner of the Textiles and Sciences building, in the garden next to the greenhouse. It had a sizeable, visibly forgotten statue of some long lost Greco-Roman god pointing skyward in the nude. There were little green snakes and bursting red ladybugs and the odd gecko or two. It had flowers galore and weeds and soft grass, everything a secret alcove could ever need.

It was also quiet and solitary. Sophie often got work done in her little glen, the prime place for a retreat away from people. From society.

It wasn't difficult to clamber through the bushes and brambles, setting her things down. She relaxed there in the grass, leaning up against the old statue and continuing to flick through her camera, unbothered.

That’s when it began, with the arrival of a very large bother.

“ **Oof**!” something cried out from beyond the brush.

Sophie quickly looked up from the camera, puzzled and searching.

A person suddenly crashed out of the leaves and onto the grass of the glen, just before her feet. Sophie watched as they rose up from the tumble, large and broad and unseemingly affected by the hard fall they just took.

The stranger spotted her and spoke.

“Oh," they wondered aloud.

Sophie glances the young man over quickly, shocked. If Sophie hadn't gotten a better look, she might've accidentally mistaken him for a large bird or peacock. He donned aquamarine... _sapphire?._..earrings and a jewel necklace to match. His shirt looked more like an oversized blouse if anything, with tight dark trousers, cinched at the waist. His fingers were littered with silver rings, fading remnants of henna or marker lining up and down his fingers. They were clutched around a huge, technicolor cloak, tightly imprinting the fabric as if he'd been moving quickly. His hair, slightly disheveled, was long, dark and shining like a fresh reel of film.

He made a very alluring picture.

For a moment, Sophie watched the boy watch her, uncomfortably absorbing the odd tension and empty air.

The attractive stranger finally gives her a small smile, tilting his head curiously as dark, luminous blue eyes flick this way and that across her form and the environment. They are hypnotic, and Sophie finds her own following the trail of his.

“I’m Howl.”

It is then, that Sophie realizes just how deep the tenor of his voice is. It is rich, warm and comforting. As if it’s holding her safe from the very lips of his mouth. The genuinity of his being seems to bleed through it, cradling her.

Sophie has never been one for infatuation, but even she can tell that his voice already has her oddly hooked. 

This is beyond unexpected. Sophie has odd taste, and it is odd because she usually doesn't have it, desiring no one. Or rather, pretending to desire no one. Usually she has time to prepare herself, to steel her heart before interacting with interesting, seductive people. This time, however, she had not anticipated a beauty to tumble into her lap so suddenly.

“How...?” she repeats back listlessly, gazing up at the stranger.

“ _Howl_ ,” the young man responds gently, making a show of curling his tongue so that she’ll catch on.

“Ah,” she nods, unable to take her eyes off of him. “ _Howl_.”

He watches her for a moment, before seemingly deciding on something and taking it upon himself to sit down and scoot in front of her. He crossed his legs, looking at her camera inquisitively.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Sophie can feel her brow raise into her hairline. He's still here?

“...I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, I asked you first.”

Sophie can't stop the chuckle that bubbles out of her throat, nodding.

“That you did. I’m...deciding on a photo for my assignment. Then I suppose I’ll go eat lunch with friends.”

Howl nods once more, understanding. “You’re in the Photography section?”

“I am. Now it's your turn.”

“We’re taking turns...?” Howl says in a teasing tone with a smirk. Sophie gets a feeling that he’s far more mischievous than his angelic features seem to let on.

“I'd hoped so.”

“Alright then. Just for you. I’m in the 3D Modeling and Textiles section.”

Huh. How interesting. She didn’t meet too many boys in that section at Ingary Arts. It sort of explained his very unique, provocative outfit. He probably designed it. Probably made it, even.

“Ah! That's nice. But I rather meant...what are you doing here?”

“It's a nice day to sunbathe.”

Sophie assesses his outfit and the tree leaves shadowing them overhead.

"It is. But you didn't come here to sunbathe."

"Sure I did!"

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

Howl’s eyes glint curiously. “I think you do know.”

Sophie opens her mouth before loud noises outside the secret glen erupt.

_"Over here!"_

_"This way? Are you sure?"_

_"Positive!"_

People are moving about just outside their bushes, seemingly frantic and in search of something.

Or someone.

 _“He was just here,”_ a female voice calls, clearly upset.

 _“Don’t worry,”_ another coos. _“We’ll find him. He’s not getting away with it.”_

 _“Right,”_ the other voice sniffles angrily before the footsteps lead away into silence.

Sophie stares at Howl as they both listen, her curiosity growing more and more. His face reveals nothing.

“Why are they looking for you?”

Howl’s playful smile falls a bit, and he shrugs regretfully.

"I hurt her feelings,” he admits. “She wanted to be something I didn’t. So I pulled back. I think I’ve upset her.”

Sophie listens to the distant sobbing and responding consolations, her face curling up in a bit of sorry feelings for the other girl.

“I think you broke her heart.”

Sophie’s bluntness is usually commented upon and disliked by others, but Howl seems unaffected, agreeing if anything. He simply nods.

“Yes. Wouldn’t be the first time, though.”

Sophie frowns. She didn’t like people who played with other people.

“You make a habit of it?”

Howl glances at her, seeing right through her cordial tone.

“I’m not a fiend,” he assures gently. “I just can’t live a lie.”

Sophie nods. That made sense.

“I can tell small ones sometimes, though,” Howl adds mischeivously, moving from the front of her and over to Sophie’s side. He throws his heavy coat across both their shoulders for convenience, pressing his towering, silken shoulder against her small, cottoned one.

Now she was shrouded in the smell of him, his fragrant, androgynous aromatics curling all around her. She couldn’t blame herself for relaxing under the heavy coat, enjoying the weight of it. She looked down to pull a lapel up in between her fingers, eyeballing the fine stitching.

“You made this?” she noted. “It’s gorgeous.”

Howl says nothing, but leans in an inch closer, his hair tickling her ear.

Sophie decides to say nothing herself, letting him rest against her and the old statue. Instead of making sense of it all, she chooses to flick through her display, thinking of pictures while Howl watched her.

If she's being honest, Sophie feels oddly vulnerable, but unsure of what to do about it. She didn’t want to shoo Howl away, but she wasn’t sure she wanted him seeing her raw photographs either. It was as if he were peering directly into her artwork, her soul, through her camera.

She decided on trying to suppress the trepidation and continue on with the task.

“I like that one,” Howl said suddenly, pointing to the display. 

It was a picture of Sophie as a little girl, wearing a big straw hat and relaxing in a hammock with a book as her sisters ran about and blew bubbles at one another. Sophie found it odd. She looked gangly and unshapen in that picture, the hat swallowing up her head, her dull brown eyes downcast boringly in her book while her sisters’ bright eyes were captured in an infinite moment of joy and happiness, their dresses whirling about them.

She said nothing, wordlessly changing the picture to a new one.

“...Aren’t you going to ask me if I like the others?” Howl wondered aloud.

Sophie paused, retreating into her thoughts for a moment before returning to the present moment.

“I could,” she reasoned. “But whether you like the photos or not doesn’t matter.”

Howl tilted his head, humming.

“Surely it does? If not me, then other people liking them matters.”

“No,” Sophie disagrees simply.

“Why not...? Isn’t it important if people...your audience...like your pictures? Why else take them if no one will look at them?”

Sophie turns to look at Howl then, her meaning becoming stronger than her shyness or fear. He is right beside her, their breaths intermingling.

“Is a photograph not a photograph, even if no one is there to see it? Even if no one is there to like it? My photography is...it’s a selfish act. I would like for people to enjoy my pictures, yes...but their gaze is not needed. People haven’t always liked the photos but that didn’t stop me from always enjoying taking them.”

Howl listens, nodding his acknowledgement.

“Wow. You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

Sophie looked confused then, glancing down at her knees. She tried and failed to move a loose hair out of her face as she tried to configure the words.

“I mean...it’s important to me.”

Howl leaned in then, brushing the hair back effectively for her, securing it easily behind the nook of her ear.

“Hmm. What else is important to you, Miss...?”

Sophie looked at him then, watching him watch her.

_'Oh. My name.'_

"Sophie," she breathes.

Howl lifts a hand near her, a question on his lips.

"May I?"

 _'Touch me?'_ she thought. Bad idea. Sophie nods her consent anyway.

"Miss Sophie...?" he inquires. His fingers are back on the hair behind her ear now, twirling it around his finger.

She struggles to finish.

"Sophie Hatter."

"...Miss Sophie Hatter," he concludes, smiling as if he's found the last piece to a puzzle.

Sophie wondered right in that moment; what kind of picture Howl was building in his mind right now? She often didn’t concern herself to care on such things—as the thoughts of other people on her often hurt her, anyhow— _but_...something about Howl’s face told her that perhaps his picture was developing a little differently.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Maybe she was just getting a bad case of a crush.

That was no good.

Howl was very, very handsome, that much was certain. Sophie was only now admitting it outright to herself _because_ he had been so attractive. The type of boy that turned heads just as much—if not more—than girls. The type that took care of himself, thought highly of himself, but his gentle energy and soft words told Sophie he might have thought highly of others too. She didn’t want to think that Howl was the type to be stuck-up or disregard others' feelings.

The crying girl before, though...

_'Ugh.'_

He was such a looker, Sophie normally would've written him off instantly for the hopes of anything. Friendship, acquaintanceship, and certainly and in no order, romance. Not because of any discrimination on her account, oh no. Sophie found she quite liked the idea of getting to know Howl better. But she knew that there were pictures in this world, and some people felt some things did not fit in their pictures. Plain girls being one of them. 

And Sophie was not anything, if not plain.

She was not vain or superficial, she felt. She was not a cynic or a misanthrope.

Just a realist.

Sophie eased away from him as politely as she could manage, standing and bringing her camera and books with her. She wrestled her bag into her grip as well, not bothering with grace, nodding her farewell to the surprised looking young man.

“It was nice meeting you, Howl. I have to go now.”

She made to turn, heading to the bushes. She was late to meeting her friends anyway. Sophie had promised.

"Wait!"

Howl appeared next to her, his long, technicolored coat back in his grip, hanging loosely over his shoulder.

“Let me help you carry your things?” He asked.

Sophie gawked a little before naturalizing her features.

Boys asked Lettie to let them carry her things. Not Sophie.

...Except now, it seemed.

“I- okay...?” she agreed uncertainly, watching as Howl skillfully transferred her books and bag into his arm, maintaining his lovely coat in the other over his back.

Standing with just her camera now, Sophie watched him for a moment. He simply smiled at her. She was hesitant to return it, busying herself with moving the bushes aside so that he could pass through safely. 

For a moment, she watched his back recede into the greenage. Was he a mirage? An illusion of her lonely mind?

_'If he's a delusion, at least he's a nice one.'_

Sophie followed after.

She walked alongside Howl through the campus grounds, holding her camera closely to her chest. The sun shone down warmly on the both of them, the pavement bright and the nature blossoming around the school in color.

Despite all the natural beauty, Sophie couldn’t help but notice that every other passerby was turning to gawk at Howl before looking questioningly at her beside him. Howl seemed to pointedly avoid the gazes...or perhaps he was truly that oblivious? Maybe he was used to the attention.

Sophie wasn’t. She suddenly felt like a log rolling along next to a peacock.

Howl decided to make small talk just then.

"So photography. You're joining the contest next month, then?"

Sophie smiles at that, nodding.

"Yes. I'm very excited."

Howl returns the anticipation.

"I'll be participating in the Textiles division. It'll be nice to see a friendly face, Sophie."

Sophie falters a bit before covering up her lag.

_'Friendly?'_

"We're friends now?" she wonders aloud. "But we only just met."

"Oh? We can give you more time if you need it. But I'm all set."

Sophie laughs breathlessly. What a strange guy.

"You usually make friends this quickly, Howl?"

Howl thinks on it a bit.

"No. Not really. But you're different."

Sophie's lips seal themselves and she focuses on walking properly, her pulse quickening a bit.

Howl ignored the looks from passerby and walked her all the way down to the dining hall, setting her books down easily and pulling out a chair for her. Sophie couldn't help but feel affection, giving him a small “thanks” before easing into her seat.

“Join us?” she asked. Surely he hadn't walked all that way for nothing?

Howl looked at her regretfully, shaking his head. 

“Sorry. I’ve got to find Calcifer.”

“Who...?”

"A good friend. I’ll tell you about him next time.”

_'There will be a next time?'_

Howl took off his coat, placing it on her chair before leaning in towards her.

"May I?" he asked, opening his arms to her.

"Ah," Sophie noticed. "A-alright."

Howl leaned in to give her a hug, pressing his lips gently against her temple before pulling away.

“I’ll see you later?” his deep voice inquired.

Sophie nods, not trusting her words and feeling her face become completely flush.

Howl smiles before pulling away. In a whisk of fabric, jewels, and cologne, he is down the hall, around the corner, and gone from sight.

Sophie is frozen in time, her thoughts racing before she finally turned to her friends.

They all stare at her in amazement. There are no delusions to be found.

“Sophie. Oh my _god_! Do you know who that was?”

Sophie thinks of the picture she’s made in her head so far. 

No. She doesn’t know him.

But she wants to.

"That's Howl. He's a friend."

* * *

The following lunch period is spent with a certain kind of enlightenment that Sophie had not asked for nor really wanted.

“He’s a player. Honestly? You should stay away from him.”

“Yeah, total fuckboy.” 

“Well _I_ think he’s nice!”

“You _would_ , Mirabelle. You always liked them pretty—”

“—Oh, shut up! I’m just saying he’s not _that_ bad.”

Sophie frowned, looking at the table before facing her friends once more.

“How do you know...?” she asked.

They look at her curiously. “What do you mean?”

Sophie has no trouble repeating herself.

“How do you know that Howl is a bad person?” she insisted.

Her friends look at her as if she’s grown multiple, venomous heads.

“Sophie, do you live under a rock? Are you serious?”

Sophie shoots a dry look before sighing.

Another friend steps in, offering more information. “He’s not exactly a... _bad_ guy...he just...there’s a lot of girls walking around with a chip on their shoulder because of him. He breaks hearts. Regularly.”

_‘So it **is** a habit.'_

Sophie sighs once more, quietly this time. Her friends don't seem to notice her disappointment and continue onward with the dastardly tales of Ingary's heartthrob.

“It’s almost like he makes a game out of it! Luring girls in only to crumple them up. He’s run through people in this school like tissue paper.”

“ _Correction_ : he’s run through people in all of _Ingary_ like tissue paper.”

“He’s like a celebrity. Magnetic!”

"Pfft. That's being very generous—"

Sophie closes her eyes, tracing a finger on her lap.

So the eager looks, the questions, the closeness, the kiss...it was all routine. Not specialized or specified to fit a picture he had of her in his head.

But what if her friends were wrong? What if they didn't have the whole picture?

Or what if it was her who didn't possess the whole picture?

...Which option hurt _less_...?

 _'Stop it,'_ Sophie thinks.

No need to fret over someone she'd likely never see again. Howl had been lovely, yes, but perhaps he was another one to toss in her mental pile of photos to burn...? Well. Maybe that was too dramatic. No matter.

Sophie had a contest to win.

And she planned to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to make this Sophie a little less apathetic and more appearance-focused. She may not show it, but she feels a lot and often lesser than. I think Sophie in both the books and the film was extremely insecure, which is why she came off so reserved, restrained, and sad. Also, her contentedness with being an elderly woman with no typical societal expectations to fit seemed to hint that to me, at least. She will grow and change, like all people do.
> 
> Songs I thought of while writing this that you can listen to if you'd like:  
>  _Why Even Try - Hippo Campus_  
>  _Yellow - Coldplay_  
>  _who knew - Chloe x Halle_  
>  _Last Hope (live version) - Paramore_  
> 


	2. Meeting Mister Pendragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie does some side work before the competition begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ToneattoGiulia has made new art posts on Twitter since. Please go check them out [here](https://twitter.com/ToneattoGiulia/status/1270787904399441921?s=20) and [here](https://twitter.com/ToneattoGiulia/status/1271500258531557382?s=20) and and [here](https://twitter.com/ToneattoGiulia/status/1291081898463240192?s=20) and [here](https://twitter.com/ToneattoGiulia/status/1291807376346165251?s=20) and she just warms my heart every day.
> 
> _“You can never be overdressed or overeducated.”_  
>  ― Oscar Wilde

Sophie realized that preparing for the contest was both exciting and yet somewhat stressful.

Correction.

 _Very_ stressful.

Professor Suliman had been coming down particularly hard on the photography students as of late, Sophie and the other female photographers included.

Sophie had always found it rather counter-intuitive of Suliman to ‘tough love’ the excellence into her girl students that she desired seeing. Sophie knew it was because Suliman was the only ranked, female photographer teaching in all of the universities, and that she likely felt the desire and pressure to bring more skilled women into the field. However, Sophie felt that her abrasive manner and strict standards only served to scare potential and current students away. She was harsh in a quiet, smooth, condescending way. She was extremely critical of the female photographers and Sophie found it disheartening at times, watching the boys snap away without such oversight or concerns.

No matter.

Sophie had resolved long ago to use the obstacles in her path as a way to mold herself into the strong photographer she hoped to become. It was either that, or let the weight of them crush her. Out of spite, Sophie refused to be flattened.

_“Attention class!”_

Sophie let her eyes raise from her papers, her musings interrupted.

Suliman was speaking, and a heaviness came with her.

“The competition involves all of the Royal College branches worldwide, so it will be challenging through and through. You are competing against fellow students from throughout Ingary and beyond. There are strong, capable competitors from nearly all the continents. I suggest you all kill any ego that was left in you, and set your sights on exceeding your own expectations. You’ll need it.”

The professor strode throughout the classroom, passing Sophie by slowly.

Sophie always found it necessary to sit in the front of her classes, but very much disliked how the hair on her skin would stand on end whenever Professor Suliman was near.

“The prize,” the professor continued smoothly, “is 25,000 in Ingarian currency, or rather 10,000 pounds sterling. There will also be press coverage in the top photojournalistic and fashion publications, showings in international exhibits, and a stellar paid internship with elite couture houses over the summer. Not to mention, if anyone from the Ingary branch wins, tuition will be accommodated for by the school and accolades will be given. We’ve lost to the High Norland, Lagos, and the Montalbino branches the past six years. Ingary is starving for young talent to prove itself.”

The class sat in a thick silence. It wasn’t anything they didn’t already know, and yet Sophie could almost feel the hunger emanating off of her classmates. 

She was hungry too.

_‘Why?’_

Why indeed, Sophie thought.

She had often sat back and wondered of why. Fame? No, not necessarily...Money? She’d love to drop her side gigs and focus entirely on school, if she could. But even the money was not such an issue, her father’s insurance policy and shop being more than enough to provide...Accolades? No, her best work was prize enough...

Then what? To prove herself? To please Suliman? What was it all for?

_'To show myself that I can do it.'_

And what would that prove?

_That there is value in you yet, Sophie._

Sophie flinched. And there it was. She _knew_ that winning a silly contest hinted nothing on her worth as a person, and yet...

 _Yet_...

“ **Sophie**? Not daydreaming again, are we?”

“No, professor.”

“You’re of more use to me down here on Earth then wherever you go in that little head of yours. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Class went on in its typical fashion and before long, it was over. Sophie spent it doing her best to focus on the lesson.

After class, Suliman beckoned her to the front. Sophie went to her, questions shining in her eyes.

“Sophie, you’re one of the four girls in this program.”

“Yes.”

“I recall what you said during introductions in your first year. That your family, like the families of many creatives, wanted you to go down a different path. Isn’t that so?”

“Yes.”

“I think you have much to improve on. But I also think you have some of the greatest potential in the program. I’m not afraid to tell you so out of a invalid belief that it may 'stunt' you, because potential is nothing but dead dreams if not acted upon. So indulge me with this: don’t you want to prove to your friends and family that you belong here? That you deserve to hold that camera?”

Sophie said nothing, really thinking on the question.

Finally, she came to a conclusion that seemed reasonable enough.

“I just want to prove to myself that I am worthy. No one else.”

Suliman smiled without humor.

“Either way, this contest is a way that you can do that. Really stand out among the Royal Colleges, you know? Imagine what you could do with that internship.”

Sophie suddenly realized where this was going, and where it had come from.

“...You think I have the best chance of winning. You want me to win.”

Suliman raised a lofty brow, but her eyes hinted mischief. 

“Don’t be so sure, Miss Hatter. I have no clue who will win, and it would be unprofessional and unethical of me to push any students before their peers unfairly. Believe me, potential aside, there are students far, far better than you. But _this_ year with _this_ class, I’m feeling confident. I’m only curious to see your progress. Anyways, it really depends half as much on our school’s clothing designers as it does our photographers. This year seems promising, though. Besides...what makes you think I haven’t addressed your other classmates? You’re always in and out, you know...never noticing the world around you. Not good for a photographer.”

Sophie almost believed her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d gotten a good picture on what she’d guessed.

Suliman never spoke this much to her before.

Ever.

Sophie watched her, waiting. Suliman didn’t seem like the type to be fame-hungry, a tenured professor with a fantastic track record of her own.

So...why all of this?

“Is there some benefit in this for you, Professor?”

Suliman’s expression did not wither.

“So little faith in me, Sophie. Just satisfaction, I’d suppose. It’d make things interesting, for once. The real benefit is for you all. To prove yourselves.”

Prove. Always something to prove, it seemed. Never a chance to just be worthy inherently and alone from inaction. Things like that didn’t really exist, and if they did, they didn’t exist for plain, simple people like Sophie.

Well. Life goes on, doesn’t it?

“Thank you professor,” Sophie nodded quietly. “I’ll be going now.”

Suliman wordlessly allowed her to leave, but Sophie could feel the gaze on her back.

* * *

Despite her occasional help in the family shop, Sophie had a few odd jobs of her own design around campus. She knew working full-time or part-time jobs at restaurants or cafes facing the endless, noisy crowds of Ingary would likely help to kill her creativity, so she enjoyed the pleasure of being able to settle on photo opportunities as they presented themselves.

A lot of creatives around campus needed the cheap, student-discounted shoot or two for their latest blog, website, project, and so it went. Sophie was acquainted with more people than she naturally would've influenced around the Royal College, because of these side jobs.

Her inbox would get hit weekly with messages for requests, for photographs.

One day, she got a different request.

**Unknown:** _I need photos of my visual art exhibition. I’m going to show a few paintings and sculptures, have friends come down to celebrate and view them. It’s pretty informal. Can you take pictures? I can pay the hourly rate as well as the editing ones._

_> Alright. When and where?_

**Unknown:** _Tomorrow night, in the campus green. Sorry for the late notice, a friend just helped me realize I’d need some._

_> Okay. I have availability then. How will I know it’s you?_

**Unknown:** _I’m Cal. Everybody knows me._

Well. That didn’t help much.

Sophie took further notes on what this new client of hers _—Cal—_ was looking for. After getting the gist of it all...a collection of interesting, candid captures of a group of friends gathering for their beloved, visual artist companion...she planned out her lenses, filters, and general thoughts before nodding off to bed.

The following night after classes, Sophie dressed warmly, in a simple white shirt, a baggy, oatmeal-colored sweater, and mom jeans. It was an outfit her sisters might've chided her on, going to a college party and all.

_"Wear this, Sophie. Sleeveless looks so nice on you. Just don't tell Mom! You know how she gets."_

_"Borrow my top. No, that one will stretch on you—this one, here."_

_"Some tights would go nicely with that. Need a pair? I have too many."_

So generous, they all were.

But Sophie didn't want the eyes on her, didn't want the crawling glances, the creeping stares. She didn't want sight touching her skin too closely, or assessing it. Lack would be found that way. Hypocritical for a photographer, yes, but the truth.

Thankfully, Sophie didn't have to bare the brunt of her sisters' weighted, expectant stares in the solitude of her dorm. She gathered her kit and set off.

She tracked down the vague address posted in the text messages. The closer she got to the green of the campus, the more she began to realize she was seeing quite a few crowds of people, as well as a bonfire blooming towards the night sky.

 _‘Is that allowed...?’_ Sophie wondered. _'It's pretty.'_

Sophie wandered into the crowds, milling around with her camera and her kit, glancing across the faces. She hadn’t seen most of these people before. A lot of them were dressed...interestingly, if not entirely lavish or outright eccentric.

_‘Are most of these fashion students?’_

It could be hard to tell at the Royal College. Though most of the photographers leaned away from wild clothing styles, one couldn't always tell which division someone belonged to just by their way of dress. Sophie had tried and failed too many times before to trust in that.

She watched them all talk and laugh with one another as she settled outside the edge of the crowd. No one was looking at her, no one noticed her, and she liked it best that way.

Didn’t make things any less lonely, but that wasn’t too important.

Lonely was comfortable. A welcome feeling.

“Hey," a boy called to her.

Sophie glanced up, surprised.

"Thanks for coming,” the guy went on, stepping forward into her line of vision to shake her hand. Like so many others at their university, he painted a very handsome picture. Smooth like suede, dark complexion, devilish features, and a collage of coiled, kinky hair that brightened up into a fiery, ombre-dyed sunset of blood orange to blonde.

“Cal?” Sophie inquired, shaking his warm hand.

“Calcifer,” he insisted. “Pretty cool party, right? We were able to get fireworks, so long as we keep the extinguishers nearby. I hope you’re ready to snapshot some bangs!”

_'Calcifer? Where have I heard that before...?’_

“Fireworks?” Sophie repeated, trying to keep up. Calcifer was speaking to her like they'd known each other for ages already, and the familiarity was surprising, if not also intriguing. “How’d you get administration to let you do that?”

Calcifer tilted his head at her, confused.

“...Who said anything about administration?”

Sophie stared blankly.

Calcifer just grinned back wickedly and white, lifting a sole finger to his mouth.

“Shh! It’s our secret, yeah?”

 _'We're going to be expelled,'_ Sophie decided.

She continued to observe him, jumping slightly as Calcifer called to her suddenly, leading her along through the crowds. They passed some of his art installations together, and her eyes drunk up the sight.

Some were paintings of shooting stars, some were little constructs of houses made out of bent metal and wiring. One looked like a machine made entirely of trash. How...sustainable?

“Wow,” Sophie noted, interested at the curious little exhibits. “You made all of these...?”

Calcifer smiled at her, nodding.

“The paintings, yeah. I had a lot of help from a classmate with the structures, though. We designed those together. I’m glad you like them!”

“Of course. By the way...Thanks for giving me the gig,” Sophie responded, following after him. “What made you reach out to me instead of the others in the Photo division...?”

“ _High_ recommendation. A lot of people around here know you. Only, one sealed the deal for me, though, if I’m being honest. C’mon!”

Sophie trailed after Calcifer as he pointed out where everything was and should be. Food, drinks, party favors, marshmallows and donut molds for the bonfire, utensils, sticks, and last but not least, more of his artworks. They were spread across the campus on easels, the fire reflecting off of them alongside the night’s normal light fixtures, being the moon and stars.

Sophie looked at the other pictures. They were a cacophony of visual sound, black, orange, red, and brown, crashing across the page and reaching far up into the sky. Other paintings melded into other colors in the rainbow, but they were all striking. They looked angry and beautiful and powerful all at once. They looked interstellar. Volcanic.

“Do you like them?” Calcifer asked from her side.

“Yes, Cal.”

“ _Calcifer_. Friends call me Calcifer."

Sophie turned to him at that, but Calcifer's face betrayed nothing save for curiosity.

"So, what do you like about them?”

Sophie thought for a moment before going on to say, “Well, I like that I can’t tell if I’m looking at people or explosions. A fire or a feeling.”

Calcifer nodded, seemingly thinking to himself.

“Is that what you meant to portray?” Sophie wondered.

“I don’t know,” Calcifer admitted quietly. “But I like how you said it anyway.”

Calcifer showed her around a little more, introducing her to this person and that. Sophie did her best to remember names, faces, and keep up appearances. Soon enough, though, the faces began to blur together for her.

“Why don’t I get started?” Sophie interrupted.

“Oh, right!” Calcifer nodded. “Go for it. Whenever you get hungry or thirsty, take anything you want. I’ll let you know when the fireworks start...Oh! And, uh remember: the theme is connection!”

Sophie didn’t recall him telling her that before, but like the professional she was, she kept it at the forefront of her mind.

Connection. Connection. Friends. Lights. Strange little metal houses. Connection.

Sophie went back to stand at the edge of the crowd and knelt down into the grass, taking them all in.

They all looked happy and healthy and close. They all looked like they knew each other. They looked as though they knew something Sophie didn’t, as if they were all in on some intimate, unspoken rule that had not been shared with her.

Even in the crowd, Sophie had felt apart somehow.

Alone.

And the strangest part was that she didn’t know why. Since girlhood, if she were really honest.

Looking at the crowd felt like looking at her sisters. Apart from her. Safe. Happy.

Together.

Something to be admired, but not quite joined.

With her sisters, being the oldest set her apart, she once believed. She was unable to be fully free in the moment, weighed down by a gone father, a new territorial stepmother, a shop to help maintain unendingly, and the inability to express herself before the camera came along.

Sometimes she wonders if it’s those same undercurrents afflicting her even now, or if they are new waves of isolation caused by new things. By herself. Isolation even amongst others.

Together.

It was something she wasn’t sure she knew the feeling of. She had her own friends, yes. She had acquaintances. She had pets, siblings, even a penpal or two. But she’d never _not_ felt alone.

Never.

_'Ugh, Sophie. Please no dramatics tonight.'_

This party and this assignment wasn’t about her and her personal shortcomings. But maybe she could use them to paint a better picture of something she was seeing...? Something that others couldn’t quite capture.

She could make their friendly, artsy hangout look like something lovely, and beautiful, and divine. Something to be elevated and upheld, revered, especially through the eyes of someone who considered themselves so lonely, so alone. From the outside looking in, Sophie could make their night even more special in her own little way.

And just maybe, a _little_ bit of that special would leak down to her.

If not? Oh well.

Life goes on.

Sophie snapped picture after picture, pictures of people laughing and falling into one another, pictures of people beside Calcifer’s art in peculiar ways, pictures of everything. This could frame that, and that could frame this, and on and on...

Sophie had been going for so long, had become so focused on the task, that she hadn’t heard the footsteps drawing near her in the grass.

“There you are.”

The deep voice penetrated the cool night air around her, and Sophie felt her muscles stiffen beyond her own control, a pleasant chill running up her spine that she couldn’t quite stop. The heavy fabric of her sweater was not enough to keep the hairs on her arm from standing on end.

She would _never_ admit it out loud, but there was nothing quite like hearing his voice, warming up the chill of the night.

“Howl,” Sophie greeted in a casual attempt that failed spectacularly, carefully trying to train her voice to keep from stuttering. It came out more breathless and in wonderment than anything else.

Sophie turned to look at him fully, preparing herself.

It was useless.

She was utterly unprepared.

Heavy jewels glittered from his ears, semi-hidden behind long hair that was half pulled back into a messy bun, with the rest left to spill down and about. His eyes were lined with the slightest hint of kohl, making them that much more bright and piercing. Wisps of misty, blue pigment layered his lids and glittered amongst his dark lashes as he gazed down towards her. A line of gemstones were placed curiously underneath one of his eyes, like a shooting star streaking across his pleasant face.

Sophie’s eyes slowly trailed from his face to his clothes.

His outline was emphasized by the flickering of the bonfire and the light of the moon shining down from above them. His eyes shone a deep blue, his broad shoulders well-postured and enshrouded with a fitted long coat with a mysteriously sheer top underneath. The slacks were high-waisted, dark, and fit him all too well. Sophie couldn’t tell whether or not the top was sheer enough to see his skin, though she couldn’t keep herself from trying. The fabric looked like liquid and its hint of see-through’ness was implied as nipples graced through the fabric, near the edge of the coat’s lining, but not enough to make a solid determination.

It was then that Sophie realized she was looking entirely too closely, for entirely too long.

And it was then that she realized Howl had been entirely too quiet, for entirely too long.

He seemed to catch onto her train of thought, smiling warmly at her. Instead of mentioning their heavy lapse in conversation as she’d suspected he would, he jumped to something else.

“Calcifer didn’t tell me he’d invited you.”

Oh. So _that’s_ where she remembered the name from!

“He didn't, really. I was hired. To take pictures.”

“Hm. It’s all the same to him. I’m sure he meant it doubly as an invite.”

“Right.”

Howl lifted an arm out towards her, gracious and soft. Sophie glanced at it curiously.

“Grant me the pleasure?” Howl asked, expression genuine.

“Ah...Alright,” Sophie nodded, slowly taking hold of the arm and walking beside Howl into the crowds.

She holds it at a length, but not enough to offend. Confusion wraps her mind as she moves beside him, towards the congregations on the green, her camera at her side and her kit left behind in the grass.

 _‘Why?’_ she wonders.

Perhaps Howl is a touchy person, Sophie thinks. Maybe he just goes through life seeking the touch of others naturally and because he is so handsome, he is rarely denied. He does not know what he does to others. That's it.

This doesn’t mean anything. 

It doesn’t.

Still, she’s not quite sure why he offered _her_ his arm and not another person at this party, even as they walk together through the crowds. Sophie can feel the eyes draw back onto them both, just like before when she last walked with Howl in public. They feel hot on her neck, and Sophie can feel her ears begin to burn a little. She knows they’re not looking at her so much as they’re looking at him, and questioning her. She keeps a brave face on, and continues on.

She doesn’t know why Howl wants her along. 

But maybe he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t.

“ **Calcifer!** ” Howl boasts in a voice louder than Sophie’s ever heard him use, reminding her very much of the strong, young man he is and not the ethereal being he sometimes slips into her thoughts as. Howl speeds up and sends them both along towards the now bewildered boy turning their way. “My best _friend_ , what a party you’ve put together!” Howl congratulates, throwing his other arm up unheld by Sophie for emphasis, beaming.

“— **Don’t** you _‘Calcifer, my dearest bestest friend’_ **_me_** , you oaf! You absolute bum! Where were you when I was setting up our stuff earlier?! And look at you, you’re late as _hell_. Sophie being here isn’t going to make me chew you out any less, if that’s what you were thinking! You’re helping me take down all of this after the show’s over, mark my words!”

“Of course! I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Sophie turned to look at Howl, her expression curious. 

_‘So that’s why he brought me along?’_

That made more sense to her. Now it was all coming together, at least for this instance. It didn’t explain their close moments in the garden, but it could be used to explain now. Sophie let her hand slip from his arm, resting it on her camera instead. She very much enjoyed Howl’s company, as confusing as it was to her, but she preferred not to be used. She wasn’t a prop for another’s picture. She was fine with simply being, behind the camera and out of the shot. That was better than fake affection.

She knew her share of fake affection. Loneliness was better.

Howl glanced at her fallen hand, his smile faltering. She could feel him glance between her face and her arm.

"May I?" he asked, unwilling to break eye contact. He motioned toward her arm, not quite touching it but waiting for permission to do so.

_'No, he may not!'_

"You may."

_'...Dammit.'_

Howl gently wrapped his own, strong arm around hers, unaware of Calcifer who was leveling them both a knowing, exasperated look.

Sophie looked away from Calcifer's watchful eyes and chose to gaze upon the warm, jewelled hand relaxing on her arm, perplexed all over again.

_‘If I was a prop for his friend to go easier on him, then why is he still seeking to keep me close?’_

“Is this really okay?” Howl asked her, pointedly ignoring Calcifer’s silent fuming on punctuality and choosing to watch her expressions closely. "I can stop."

Sophie looked at their arms and damned her weakening resolve.

She _liked_ his touch. She _liked_ him being near. She hated the indecision and the itchiness under her tongue, the insecurity roving in her thoughts, but she loved the way he always _asked_ her. He wanted her near. He wanted her close.

And Sophie has always wanted to be wanted.

“Yes,” Sophie admitted quietly, cheeks beginning to burn. "It's okay. I will let you know if it isn't."

Howl smiled, likely chalking it up to her needing a break from holding his arm and continued to keep his own wrapped around hers, finally looking back to Calcifer.

“One of the 3D models looked a little funny on the way over here. Are we going for an angled look?”

Calcifer thought for a second before recognition lit in his eyes. 

“...The castle? No, it’s just lopsided. We’re missing one of the stands and I had to make do with what was in the studio.”

“Hm. Well, we can fix that later!”

“Figures. You _would_ know where the good stuff is hidden in this maze of a school. Maybe that would’ve been helpful a little earlier, don’t you think?”

Howl winked. Calcifer rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, _well_...glad you finally decided to show. Next time...try to be on time, got it? Anyway...Sophie, how’s it going?”

Sophie glanced over, surprised to be pulled into the conversation between the two familiar friends, her brows knitting curiously.

“I have some good ones," she assured. She did.

Howl made a strange noise that sounded like approval or excitement, Sophie couldn’t determine which. She tried her best to ignore him so she could focus on answering questions like a functioning human being.

Calcifer drew back confusedly, chuckling at her.

“I rather meant you, Sophie. Not the photos.”

“Oh,” Sophie noted.

Why would it matter how she was? He’d just met her an hour or so ago. She’d been hired for a job. That was all that mattered, surely?

“I’m fine.”

Calcifer lifted a brow. 

“You sure? It’s been hours since you got here. I haven’t seen you dance or eat or drink. Don’t work so hard, Sophie. Burnout is a menace.”

_‘Hours? Oh!’_

She’d gotten distracted, it seemed.

Howl frowned at Calcifer's words and Sophie suddenly found herself fumbling for the right words to appease the two concerned looks she was receiving.

“I...I didn’t realize...”

Calcifer tutted and snapped his fingers at Howl.

“You! Repay me for being late by making yourself useful. Make sure she gets something to drink or eat or both. I’ve got to go start the lightshow.”

Howl teases a salute to Calcifer before leading Sophie away.

“So...have you two known one another long?” Sophie wondered.

“Yes. We really _are_ best friends. Been together since schooldays. He's like my twin flame.”

_'Twin flame? Romantically or platonically?'_

"Like a soul mate?"

Howl quirked his head in thought.

"No, like a friend, but from a past life. We understand each other. Soul mates are more intimate, aren't they?"

_'Platonic, then.'_

"Really...? But what could be more intimate than being destined for one another?" Sophie wondered.

Howl met her gaze without fear.

"There's not much effort for me with Calcifer. We just know one another's hearts. Always have. But to understand and learn about others? It's hard. Destiny may be real, and it may be fake. But initiation...the choices we make as free-willed, autonomous people, flesh and bone, for the other people we desire...destiny be damned...that's a lot more intimate to me."

Sophie's brow rose at that. He seemed so _sure_. Howl was very...odd. Sophie didn't know many boys who sat around thinking of these kinds of things.

She liked it.

"Which do _you_ think is more intimate, Sophie?"

She gulped loudly, switching the subject. She wasn't the one to inquire on intimacy, she felt. She knew nothing about it.

“Oh, I don't know. I didn't mean to pry, I was just kind of puzzled, he seemed...”

“— _Upset_ with me? Rightfully so. I got held up, unfortunately. He’s just a little mad, that’s all.”

“...And you’re just a ‘ _little’_ late,” Sophie said before thinking, intrigued to watch Howl’s smile reappear at her jest. She couldn't help but mirror him.

**_“Howl!”_ **

Sophie and Howl look over to the call, another student jogging towards them.

“Helena,” Howl greets the sudden stranger warmly. “I hope you’ve been well?”

“Yes,” Helena blushes, not-so-secretly glancing at Howl’s hand on Sophie before straightening her expression once more. “Better now, though.”

“Is that right?” Howl asks, his deep voice adding a lilt of light teasing. 

Sophie rocks on her feet, wondering if she should be witnessing this or not. Things were beginning to feel a little awkward on her end, as she obviously wasn’t in on whatever electric feeling was passing between Howl and the student. She half wishes she had the willpower to ask Howl to release her, so that she could escape into the crowds.

“I waited for you after our Pattern Cutting class. When I didn’t see you, I was afraid you might’ve gotten sick...?”

“That’s very kind of you. I had to get a pardon from the Professor to work on another assignment that day.”

“Oh, I see!” The girl glances nervously at Sophie before seemingly steeling herself. “W-would you mind showing me around, Howl? Cal’s too busy setting up the fireworks, and I’ve always been a fan of your work and his.”

Howl’s face tints with sincere apology. 

“I would love to, but I’m watching over Miss Hatter at the moment. Maybe next time. Sophie, this is Helena, a friend of mine.”

The girl’s face falls and she does her best to greet Sophie through disappointed eyes. Sophie didn't know what to do with herself.

“Ah... _hello_ , Sophie. Er, Howl, _but_ —”

 **“Howl!”** A new person calls. 

_Scchrrrp - crack!_

The whizzing and bursting of fireworks begin in the sky over the green, Calcifer’s excited hoots echoing over the sound of the crowds and soft music.

“Howl, buddy!”

Through the different colored flashes of light, this time Sophie spots a group of students, making their way over to them. Many are girls, some are boys, all appear starstruck, intrigued, or both. They seem familiar, close. She can see in Howl’s eyes that he recognizes most of them, as he waves back grinning. They are friends.

Together.

“It’s alright,” Sophie insists, patting Howl’s arm gently. He looks down at her, his neck craning to lock eyes. She wants him to believe the lie in her look. “I can find the food and drinks just fine. You have fun with your friends.”

“They’re in my Divisions," Howl responds. "You should meet them! We can all have fun together,” Howl suggests, allowing Sophie’s arm its freedom. 

She blocks a shiver down, without his warmth.

“I did have fun. With you. Besides, I have to get a good shot of the fireworks, remember?” 

“Your drink, though—”

Sophie takes a step back and away, a neutral apology on her face that she uses to hide how put out she actually feels. Her moment with him is over, it seems. Reality has resurfaced, and Sophie doesn’t feel in place here. Not really. She can't _— won't_ —fight for his attention among the others, because she's not that kind of person and she would never win that particular battle anyway.

She steps back towards the outer edges of the crowds, snapping photos of the fireworks and getting back behind the lens. Taking a breath, she feels safe again. In place.

Sometimes, she catches a glimpse of Howl through the crowds. The first time, his attention is taken by an enamored classmate’s. The second time, by another.

The third time, he is watching her. The colors of the light-show spill across his face, letting Sophie see the oddly blank look there. No bravado, no pomp.

Something else.

Sophie snaps a shot, because who’s to say he’ll know she took one of him among all those people present, and who’s to say he could catch up to her even if he’d known she took a picture of him in the first place?

She stands from her crouch, gathers her kit, and leaves the green.

* * *

  
  


Several assignments, sleepless nights, and thoughtless days later, the beginnings of the competition finally commence.

She has not seen Howl or Calcifer, though there are rumors of them both that bound throughout the school, as always.

Sophie keeps the photo. Develops a print. She didn’t tell a soul. But sometimes she’d look at it revealing it’s hiding spot from a page behind in her textbook, and slowly trace the shadows and lights with the pad of her finger.

Trace his face.

Her little secret. Pathetic, yes, but it’s not like anyone had to know. Still had the coat, too. Who knows when she'd get the chance to give it back?

When she wasn’t poring over her photos or glancing at the technicolor coat in the corner of her dorm, she was preparing for the day she knew would come.

And come it did.

Sophie woke bright and early on the first day of the competition.

They’d all gathered in the assembly hall, hundreds from every division around the Royal Colleges.

The announcer stepped forward, looking very professional and cold in his black fit.

“Attention! You all know what time it is. _Pairings_ will be assigned today. We’ll be completing the first task today, as will every other branch of the Royal College in their corresponding time zone. The teams are intended to be made up of three people; The student designers that will be coming from every division in the Fashion department—the models that they choose to wear their pieces—and you all, the photographers. You will all be granted thirty minutes maximum to capture the model and the piece. The designers get to pick their model, but that’s where autonomy ends. Outside of that, these pairings cannot be chosen by students, and are drawn randomly. If you succeed into the next round, only then will you be allowed to choose; to work with your original pair again, or to have your names thrown into a ballot for random reselection with others who wish the same. Designers, you’ve already picked your models Monday, so you only have half an hour to prep those models. Do not pick a different model and do not help another designer, or risk _immediate_ disqualification. Models, you will get breaks while the photographers work on their post production. At the end of it all, photographers will submit their work to the Photography division professor, Suliman, and designers will submit to the Textiles division professor, D’Argento. You will all be free to leave afterwards, and hear back from the professors and faculty in three days on which ten selections won, and which did not. From there, they will proceed. In the next round, the crowd will slim to five winning pairs, then two, then one: the last pair that will ascend to the Royal College branch in Kingsbury for the final round. Clear?”

The crowd of students nod and exclaim their assent and understanding, shifting after the long rundown and eager to get into the swing of things.

“Good. Listen closely, last names! The following pairings are...Windsor, modelling for Reyes, photographed by Lilac. Adeoye, modelling for Vennegurt, photographed by Goldstein. Pendragon, modelling for... _Pendragon_ , _huhthat’snew_...photographed by Hatter—”

Sophie could feel the hair on her arm raise as her name was called.

_‘Pendragon. Right. I hope they’re easy to work with. And how interesting...they’re modelling their own designs. Maybe that will make the process smoother? Or perhaps, harder.’_

Sophie fiddled with her fingers, waiting for all the teams to be announced. When the announcer finished, he gave them all a smile, eager to see the competitive, hungry students looking back at him.

“May the games begin! Head to your stations, they’re labelled. Your designs and equipment have been set up for you. Luck to you all.”

Sophie stood, walking through the crowds to eyeball the workspaces in each titled room, before finally finding her own.

_‘Pendragon x Pendragon x Hatter’_

Sophie stepped inside to an empty room. She spotted a tall mannequin near a white stage, lights, and stool. It was a male figurine with broad shoulders. It donned a gorgeous, black blouse with puff sleeves constrained with black ribbon at the joints. Ruffles and lace complimented the outfit, the collar blooming into a pretty bouquet of swarthy fabric.

Sophie glanced at the several side pieces brought along on the tables, likely props the designer anticipated on possibly using. There was a crown, a scepter, blue flowers, rings, and so on.

_‘So a royal theme, then? I can work with that. I’d suppose I could get the model to —’ _

“Everywhere I turn these days, it seems...” a familiar voice called out.

Sophie's heart stops.

“...there _you_ are.” He finished, smiling.

“Howl!” His name jumped from her lips, surprised and apprehensive, almost as if she couldn't believe the circumstance.

“Sophie!” he responded back in equal volume, with much less apprehension and much more glee.

He bowed, low and grandly in jest, before stepping in with arms full of aged paper. 

“I-I didn’t know your last name was Pendragon!” Sophie exclaimed.

Not very clever.

“I knew your last name was Hatter,” Howl answered kindly, moving to drop the paper on a nearby desk.

“I...you’re modelling for yourself? But...why...?”

“Why not?” Howl smiled, tilting his head curiously at her. “Shall we start?”

Sophie realized she was gripping her camera too tightly, released it, then breathed.

This didn’t change anything. This didn’t complicate things.

She would just keep telling herself that in the slightest hopes of it working.

“Yes. Yes, let's start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sophie is making more friends slowly, yet still feels so isolated. What keeps her away? Her past burns from society? Or is it something deeper, something inherent in herself?
> 
> Songs I thought of while writing this that you can listen to if you'd like:  
>  _better off - Jeremy Zucker, Chelsea Cutler_  
>  _Come True - khai dreams_  
>  _feel something - Bea Miller_  
>  _notice me - ROLE MODEL_  
>  _Smokestacks - LAYLA_  
> 


	3. Stage One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie meets her designer, model, and enigma, all-in-one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _“I only fear danger where I want to fear it.”_  
>  ― Franz Kafka
> 
> The scenes referenced can be shown in [THIS](https://twitter.com/ToneattoGiulia/status/1261404612784873472?s=20) tweet by @ToneattoGiulia on Twitter, this story being inspired by her original and lovely art!

The first ten minutes in that studio felt like ten years, to Sophie.

Not from agony or boredom.

From...

_Tension._

Sophie did her best to conceal the rattling nerves, only to then fight and hide silent frustrations over the appearance of these obnoxious feelings coursing through her. She was not the type to get frazzled by a quiz, a question, or anything that came with pressure trailing behind it. Pressure was something of an old friend, for her. She could handle stress. She could withstand hard times. She was a fortress, she often believed.

This fortress couldn’t handle him, though.

Or the way he made her seem to act.

The way he made her seem to _feel_.

Sophie was quickly finding out just how agonizingly and obliviously obtrusive Howl Pendragon could really be.

She watched him from her peripheral vision, half-pretending to align the lighting stands, the cameras, and the filters...all while secretly observing Howl flit around the room. She had to admit, curiosity won out over professionalism concerning the anomaly of the person that wanted to both design _and_ model his fashions. Sophie had always assumed designers appreciated the distance that a model offered for their creative works.

A distance that allowed the designer to maintain a more unbiased, neutral assessment on everything.

_...That_ didn't seem to apply here.

Howl made a deep, pleased sound as he held up some fabric to his body in a corner mirror, clearly happy with what he was seeing.

In that moment, Sophie offhandedly wondered if Howl was something of a narcissist.

_'Hmm...maybe? ...No. No, not likely.'_

She had been under the impression that narcissists were crueler and colder, outright. Narcissists didn’t give forehead kisses or listen intently to one’s inner thoughts in secret gardens. Still. Narcissists _could_ very well go around breaking hearts. And perhaps all the aforementioned actions were indeed used as disguises to break one more heart. One more beating for the pile.

_'Who...? Me? **My** heart? Please.'_

The thought was a tremendously laughable one. As much as she herself valued it, Sophie knew her heart was no grand prize to the general populace of heart-breakers in Ingary. Not when there were better, interesting victims to pursue. Victims whose eyes sparkled instead of falling flat, victims who could conjure all the right words for an enchanting conversation and not leave awkward hangs in the air, victims whose wardrobes did not consist entirely of thrift store items or hand-me-downs.

Then...perhaps Howl was a covert narcissist?

_'No. Paranoia is getting the best of you.'  
_

Sophie knew how a covert narcissist could be.

All too well.

Nonetheless, Howl did not appear to make her feel empty, drained, or self-doubting after being in his presence for mere moments. Confused? Certainly. Discombobulated? Definitely. Somewhat, passionate...? Regretfully, yes.

But nothing bad.

Except perhaps...a lurking suspicion at all the good feelings he _did_ give.

Through all the conflicting emotions, Sophie couldn’t help but admit to herself how terribly suspicious she was of this entire situation, under the surface of her skin.

She knew there was no way that could be possible. That there was no way for Howl to arrange them to be partnered. No way for either of them to know how, or why they kept bumping into one another over and over again. But the odds were...slim, to say the least.

Was this destiny was at work...?

_'Now you've really lost it, Sophie.'_

Howl strode around the room confidently, knowingly, adjusting _this_ hem and checking the stitching on _those_ slacks. His fingers were long, strong, and prudent. His handling was gentle and assured, while his concentration was strong and focused. Only his brows expressed any tension if he felt it, as all else was smooth and free of worried lines.

Sophie somehow couldn’t picture him with wrinkles. She had a sudden, silly theory that he’d age like the finest of wines _—_ but his skin was also as smooth as glass currently, so perhaps he would fight off age for a good, long while. Maybe Howl practiced skin care? Sophie wasn't sure how to feel about that, knowing that her own skincare routine was severely lacking. Was it obvious on her? Did he judge her for it?

Beyond his superficial features, Sophie found a particular interest in the way he seemed completely involved in the process, the outfits and the props. He gathered a quick, thin thread in his teeth and needled away at the collar of the blouse before snapping the thread and tucking it away into the folds. Designer magic at work, it seemed.

Happy with all his final adjustments, he finally turned to Sophie, inquisition on his face.

“Is the set ready?”

“Yes,” Sophie answered too quickly, ceasing her pretending of not noticing him, and nodding.

Of _course_ , it was ready. She was nothing if not dependable. Consistent. Lacking a fiery passion, maybe. But not lacking discipline.

Sophie was proud of that, no matter how small it may have seemed to others. And she was glad for the small moment to display it to Howl.

She knew she could not reflect the fascinating personalities of socialites like her sisters, or enigmas like Howl, types that filled this school, this city. But she could be a standout in discipline and effort. That was something she could still control. That was something she could do well.

“Excellent,” Howl nodded, “thank you. It seems this room is all we have and I didn’t think to change into the clothes beforehand. Would you like me to step out, or you don’t mind if I…? Being short on time, and all.”

Sophie saw his fingers make odd little gestures and dip away from her line of vision, but she was so focused on his face and the words coming out of his pretty mouth (was that a hint of gloss...? No, it _couldn’t_ be...oh, but it _was!_ ), that she agreed without thought. She was busy composing more pictures of him in her head.

“It’s fine,” her mouth moved without her consent.

Howl probably had his own ideas on angles and wanted to adjust her cameras, something she might allow if the idea was well worth _—_

**_'Oh.'_ **

“...!” Sophie held in the gasp threatening to escape behind her lips, shocked into disbelief as Howl casually unbuckled his pants, neatly freeing the hem of his shirt, and lifted it over his head in the funny way that boys often did. All she could see was rising chest, curling abdominals, bulging shoulders and arms, and dizzyingly long lines hinting at hip bones and lower obliques that disappeared into his now falling slacks _—_

Sophie quickly turned away and busied herself with her lens sets, pretending to decide between them.

Howl was undressing.

Why did she not anticipate this? He had literally just told her, just a moment ago. Why wasn’t she paying attention?

This wasn’t like her.

Sophie couldn’t help but judge herself harshly for a moment.

_‘All this fuss over him, Sophie. He’s simply doing what is necessary for this contest. He’s the model, after all. You never let people wind you up in this way. Get it together. We have a contest to try and win. There isn't anything so special about him that allows you to forget yourself.’_

Besides, Sophie was no stranger to beauty. She had seen the gamut before, especially through her photo gig on campus. For God’s _sake_ , her sisters were practically nymphs of Grecian legend, at least, that's what her stepmother and neighbors always seemed to believe. Sophie didn't doubt it for a second. And the Royal College had no shortage of beauties in all shades and sizes, daily.

So why did it have to feel so...different now?

_‘Because he noticed you. Because he was kind.’_ A small hidden part of her whispers. _‘He asked after you. He always does.’_

And?

So she is supposed to fall for every handsome face with handsome words coming out of it?

The practical voice in her mind charged to the forefront.

_‘Be reasonable, Sophie. Don’t let your feelings get the best of you. So what he’s here, and eh...undressing? Life goes on.’_

Slowly steadying fingers clacked around the items and she quickly decided to move herself over to the background of the set, away from the young, stripped-down designer. There were a few things to actually adjust this time around, a few necessary duties to attend, still.

Finally, she could hear a few moments of rustling behind her before turning to glance as he walked past her, clearly ready and moving to sit on the stage's stool.

“What do you think?”

He seemed oddly anxious, gesturing at his body that now adorned the designs Sophie had spied on the mannequin earlier.

His art. Covering him.

He was presenting her a picture, and Sophie could not help but view a good picture. With her nerves finally suppressed and her mind focused, she could think properly now.

She peered closely and walked around him slowly, assessing the work, curious as to what details she would find within the cloth.

The sheer fabric was something reminiscent of what she saw Howl wearing the night of Calcifer’s exhibition. Before, such an item was being framed by a sturdy, thick coat. Now, before her, Howl donned the outfit alone without coverings.

The sleeves and breadth of his shoulders could be seen to the inquiring eye through the thin lace. Howl’s lovely, strong throat was embraced lovingly by the sheer black collar, spilling waterfalls of ebony velvet down his front and over his heart. The joints of his arms and wrists were accentuated in the loose sleeves of the blouse, the entirety of his lower half encased in a dark, jumpsuit-slack that did well to accentuate the sharp, slimming of his waist and hips, highlighting his maleness. Strong, leather shoes tied off the look, a hard difference contrasting the delicateness of the designs Howl painstakingly sewed onto the front chest of the blouse.

There was an ambiguousness in it all, a balance between masculine playing with feminine. It was not exactly _androgynous_...it was clearly made for a man...but the materials and choices were questionable, delicate, and odd, if not exciting.

“Wow,” Sophie commented without hesitation. “I’ve never seen this kind of thing on a man before.”

Howl's anxiety seemed to melt away, and he began to preen under her clearly impressed gaze.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. You’re a trailblazer, I take it? That’s admirable.”

Howl was quiet for a moment, thinking.

“I wouldn't say that. More like a...hedonist?”

Sophie blinked once. Twice.

“...Really?”

“Yes,” Howl affirmed, clearly more sure of the proposition this time. “I like pleasurable things. Satin, silk, velvet, deep wine-like colors. And men will drink, eat, smoke, or seduce for pleasure, but they don’t always _wear_ their pleasure, not in the way women do. It could be because of fear, or lack of options in what’s offered in the stores. I’m just here to make sure there are more options. They can tackle the fear themselves.”

Sophie nodded. That made all the sense to her. She decided to pursue the topic, curiosity taking over.

“So...is _that_ what you want the onlooker to feel when they look at you? Pleasure?”

She looked up to find a sudden, wicked smile find its way on Howl's face.

It was an expression that took Sophie aback.

_'I'll take that as a 'yes', then!'_

Howl chuckled, dropping the expression and shrugging lazily. The act jostled the fabric at his front, making it rustle like a black wave. Sophie found her eyes captured by the mesmerizing fabric. Howl's deep voice broke her out of her trance, and she refocused onto his face.

“I don’t know how to word this kind of thing as well as you can, Sophie.”

Sophie blinked.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Back in the garden,” Howl insisted.

“Oh. That? I was...rambling.”

He raised his brows in genuine surprise.

“Then you are the most interesting rambler I’ve ever met.”

Sophie felt her face heat, before remembering herself before looking away.

“Are you alright? You look warm, Sophie.”

Sophie’s brow twitched in slight irritation. He knew what he was doing, his innocent tone be damned. There was no way he _didn’t_ know.

“Hush, you.”

Howl laughed generously, crossing his legs and sitting a little taller. He made a zipping motion towards his mouth, before unzipping it.

“How do you want me?”

Sophie ignored the loadedness of the question and deadpanned at him, looking to cease the onslaught of 'maybe-but-maybe-not' flirting. She simply could not handle it all at this moment, nor could she allow her overactive mind to begin dissecting everything Howl did or said.

Not when they had pictures to create.

“We’ll go prop by prop, scene by scene. I think with the volume of the top, it’d be interesting to see it distributed amongst an even surface. I was also thinking of a shot from above, on those papers you brought.”

She moved the cameras and lights in place, asking after Howl’s preferences and needs. After a little discussion, they ended up deciding on the first shoot being Howl laying atop paper, designed to look like royal decrees. The second shoot would have him hoisting the scepter and ball, and the last shoot amongst a crowd of daisies.

The shoots began well and Sophie was happy to note that Howl was the absolute furthest thing from camera-shy. He looked at the lens with intensity, passion, and desire. Sophie was half-surprised the camera didn't combust underneath the pads of her fingertips, and could only thank her love of the craft being enough to keep her focused and unaffected by his fervor.

When it came time for the flower-framed shots, Sophie couldn't help but notice an idea after taking a few casual photos. Yes... _yes,_ she had the best idea! And Howl could very well pull it off, as confident as he was in front of a camera. The words came to her.

"I think you should take your shirt off _—_ "

"Pardon?"

" _—_ And _cry_."

It was Howl's turn to blink now, on the edge of fascination. He waited for an explanation to the madness behind the demands, and Sophie was all too eager to launch into it.

"The shots of you clothed are lovely, yes, and perfect for the fashion portion. But I think we should diversify our entry with a tighter focus on my photographic, artistic abilities to complement. And for that, I would prefer you shirtless in this shot. With the daisies and my post-editing idea _—a gold helm like Biblical paintings, maybe honey tears to contrast the milky look of the flowers—_ you would look vulnerable in your skin, hold depth amongst the colors and flowers, and evoke a sense of..."

Sophie thought deeply for the words, her fingers curling in the air as she searched for the perfect label.

"Ambiguousness. Divinity symbols usually tied to idols, placed on a human. Daisies of white hinting at femininity, surrounding a masculine frame. Tears, trails of gold and honey, coming from the eyes of someone who is not sad. Milk and honey in an ocean of blue. Opposites complementing."

She realized she wasn't making a lot of sense. But that was just it...

_'Yes. Something beyond explanation. Only to be composed and seen.'_

Moments passed before wordlessly, Howl unpinned and removed his blouse. He sat before her bare with a mysterious expression, moving to pick up the bouquet of daisies before bringing them to his face, and closing his eyes.

Sophie watched his face redden a little, his eyes crinkle, and soon enough the tears came.

Howl opened his eyes back up, pleased with having produced the tears necessary and proving a curious picture indeed. Sophie wanted to ask what he had thought of to cry so quickly, but chose instead to move fast before they dried. Who knew if he could produce them as easily again?

"Is this alright?" Howl asked with a steady voice.

"Just one more thing _—"_ Sophie clamored for a towel, laying it on Howl's lap. Then she fumbled for a water bottle in her bag before cupping a bit of the liquid, and bringing it over to Howl. He watched with interest as she covered the daises and his fingers that clutched them.

"Alright," she murmured to herself. "Hand a little higher, please!"

"Like this?"

"Exactly," Sophie insisted, getting the framing just right.

"I have so many questions now," Howl joked, looking at the daisies with humor.

"Look at me," Sophie demanded from behind the camera, invigorated to make her idea come to life.

Howl's eyes widened a fraction, before sliding over to her.

"What expression should I make?"

Sophie paused a moment. "Desire."

Howl did not laugh like she thought he would, but instead, morphed his face into something that conveyed desire indeed. Sophie felt that if she weren't so focused, she would feel eerie with how easily Howl could chameleon himself into what she requested. The look was a very heated one, but not the gut punch that Sophie imagined for the picture. It didn't quite match the one she had in her head.

"More," Sophie insisted.

"More what?"

"Desire!"

"How much more?"

"All that you can give me."

A glimpse of wonder crossed his face before he morphed it once again. Finally, she saw his eyes really change and his aura extend, his demeanor. It went from something fun and passionate to almost tangible, and thrumming. Yes, that was what she needed! What she wanted.

_Snap! Snap! Snap!_

Sophie pulled back, looking at her captures in the display.

_'Yes. Yes, this is a winner. I feel it.'_

Her confidence must have shown well on her face, because she could feel eyes on her, but she could do little to stop her excitement.

Howl wiped his face and hands dry, watching her with the daisies still dangling out of his hair, a small smile coming to his lips. It was then that he decided to blurt something she was completely unexpected and unprepared for.

“You’re the greatest photographer I’ve ever known, Sophie.”

Sophie felt the blush return to her, this time breaching down her neck and making blood race to the tips of her ears. She covered herself uselessly with her hands.

“ _Oh_ , didn’t I tell you to _hush_? You've only seen a few of the shots. You can't make such a determination."

"I don't need to see them to believe it's true. You said so yourself before. Remember?"

_'Is that was this was about? What I said in the garden?'_

"I-I was talking about me liking my own pictures. Not about being the 'best'...!"

"Well I like them too, so I think you're the best."

Sophie's brow lifted and she grew a little frazzled. Why was he heaping such a praise onto her when he'd hardly seen what she took so far? What she had photographed in the past? Was he joking? How easy it must be for him, then. Sophie did not find photography or her efforts funny. She took them very seriously.

"Howl, you probably don’t even know any other photographers.”

“Oh...? You sound so sure.”

“Go _on,_ then! How many do you know?”

Howl leaned in then, meeting her challenging gaze head-on.

“Seven, excluding the _best_ standing before me. Should I turn on the air-conditioning? You look _—_ ”

" _No_ ," Sophie insisted, covering her face again. "No, you stay right where you are. I need to get this on the computer, and you must stop saying silly things."

"Hm. Can I do silly things? Is that allowed?"

Howl stuck his tongue out at her playfully, being the _ruinous_ little imp Sophie was beginning to grow irked by.

" _Fine_. Have it your way. I will upload these while you sort yourself out."

Sophie turned away, brushing some hair behind an ear and taking her camera with her to digitally transfer and edit the photos.

His voice rang out behind her deep, calm as day, mysterious as night.

“Compliments are good for the soul, Sophie."

Well.

Sophie wasn't so sure about her soul, but...

...perhaps they couldn't _hurt_.

“...Thank you, then. For...”

_'...Thinking I'm the best photographer? Being a good model? Remembering the words I say...?'_

She let the sentence die quietly, lifting the camera before turning to focus it on him. Maybe her bar was low. Maybe this all was a jest and she just couldn't catch on. She searched for the words, for the humor or the joke on his face, but oddly enough...

There was none. Howl simply smiled.

"You're very welcome, Sophie"

* * *

Pendragon had draped himself across a desk as Sophie continued editing. In a few minutes, she would have to hand them in to Suliman to make deadline. She peered over at him, wondering why he was hovering so, especially when the clock was running short.

She was grateful for the buffer that her focus on work gave her against his unending aura, entrancing eyes, and divine smell. It certainly served its purpose this afternoon, and she had no intention to make a fool of herself now that they were almost finished with the round.

“...Can I help you with something, Howl?”

“I’m sure you could." Seeing Sophie's blank look seemed to spur him on to his real intent. "Do you always get a lot of ideas in post-production?”

“Not really. They usually strike during the shoot. I, ah...I promise that I took your wishes into consideration. But...you’re supposed to be on break, remember?”

Howl frowned. “I wanted to watch you work. I can’t see?”

“No. Go on break.”

Howl’s face relaxed and he shot her a fond look that she tried her best to remain unaffected by.

“You’re a stickler for rules, I take it?”

“When I want to be,” Sophie responded truthfully.

Howl lowered his gaze from hers, humming.

“Noted. I’ll keep that in mind. For future reference.”

Sophie bit her tongue from asking on his plotting, choosing instead to watch him abandon the desk and leave the room.

With Howl gone for the implemented ‘break’, Sophie refocused on her computer to work. She clicked around the necessary programs, adjusting the contrast, the colors, the layers, the grain....

It all came together under beautifully her watchful eye. If Howl had looked ethereal before, now he could only be titled fittingly under 'divine'.

Finally, she pulled her fingers back from the keys.

“I like it,” she commented to herself, before getting the files emailed, the prints ready, and shelving it all into the proper competition folder.

_'Time to deliver it to Suliman.'_

Sophie left the room, observing the other photographers who had also just finished, left their respective studios, and were rounding off to drop their folders neatly on Suliman’s desk out front.

Among the many faces, Sophie knew she wasn't alone in her desperate desire to win this. She wasn't alone in being the artist in the family to diverge off a path expected by her family, she wasn't alone in having to work and work and work to prove that she belonged here to others and to herself. She wasn't the only hungry one. There were many students here with the same stories as her, and the same ambitions.

She always had to be sure to remember that.

Lining up was eventful and Sophie listened to those around her chatter while she stayed quiet, looking straight ahead at nothing. Would Suliman say something more to her, as she had done all those weeks ago in class? Would she glance through the folder? Make an expression or comment that hinted at Sophie's success or failure?

Finally, she made her way to the front.

Sophie fully expected a reaction when her turn came to place the entry, but nothing of the sort arose. Smoothly, Suliman crossed off her name and looked right past her, prompting the others to step up.

“Next!”

Sophie quelled down a flinch and her roving curiosity before turning around, heading back towards the competition room to clean up. When she stepped inside, she realized everything was already clean and packed away.

Howl had already made everything spotless for her.

“Oh! Thank you, Howl. That was very helpful of you.”

“Anytime.”

Sophie smiled a little, glad to be free of the heavy lifting, and moved to hoist up her photography kit. Before she could announce her leave, she turned to find him right before her.

“Let me take you for a drink,” Howl announced. “I owe you one. From before.”

“Ah,” Sophie remembers the party, nodding. She had abandoned him before. “That’s alright Howl. You don’t owe me _anything—_ ”

“ _—_ I want to do this for you.” Howl insisted, leaving little room for interpretation.

Sophie glanced up.

“Oh? I...”

“Do you have any classes after this?”

“Well, not until the evening...”

“It’s on me, then. Here, I’ll carry that for you.”

Howl lifted her equipment cases out from her hands, filling his own. Sophie knew personally how heavy they could be, but Howl truly made them appear like no trouble at all. In fact, he did not seem troubled at all, but instead looked like the cat that caught the mouse.

“So. What’ll it be? Coffee? Tea? Milkshakes? Or are you the ‘cocktail in the afternoon’ kind of girl?”

Sophie’s eyes widened.

“ _Goodness_ , no. I couldn’t stand the headache. Is tea alright with you?”

“Tea,” Howl began, locking eyes with her just in time for her to see the slow creep of a dashing smile arise, “is my favorite, Miss Hatter.”

Sophie wondered a little to herself.

“...Really? You seem more of a coffee person, to me.”

Howl’s eyes twinkled, but he didn’t answer. She couldn’t help but notice him assess her for a moment, seemingly amused.

She had a feeling that she’d been right.

Being under his gaze and in his company without the premise of work of the competition made her feel odd. The hair on her arm raised a little. Sophie raised a hand to her lips, nearly about to nibble a nail before remembering herself and lowering it once more.

“A-alright then. But we must drop these off first.”

“Sounds like a plan. Lead the way.”

Sophie led Howl out of the studio and out of the department entirely. The fresh air felt good on her face after burying herself behind a camera for such a long period, though it made her feel no less pressured by Howl’s ever-enigmatic presence near her side. He made little conversation, enjoying the nice day like her, and Sophie tried to do the same. It was difficult, ignoring all of her questions bubbling underneath the surface.

_'WhywhyWhywhyWhyWhywhy?'_

**_'Why not?'_ **

Soon enough, they arrived at the entrance of her dorm hall. They turned many halls and went up a flight of stairs before finally coming to a stop before her door.

Sophie carefully transferred the items back into her hands before looking up at Howl.

“I’ll only be a moment. Then we can go.”

It felt odd, she thought, as she turned from him and left him at the threshold of her dorm room to put her things in their rightful place. It felt odd to have something to do outside of her normal schedule, someone to hang out with that was like...him. And oddly enough, Sophie wasn't sure if this was meant to be a post-work hangout, a friendly one, or a date. She wasn't quite dressed for a date, so she hoped it was one of the former. Should she quickly throw something else on? But didn't want to make him wait...

Sophie had never spent time with such a person before. Certainly not one that seemed so...nonchalantly yet determinedly hellbent on charming her and knowing her. Befriending her.

“Minimalist,” Howl noted out loud from her doorway. “Interesting!”

Oh. She had forgotten he was still at the door, seeing into the room. Sophie stiffened just a little, feeling as if she were under a microscope.

“ _‘Bad’_ interesting? Or _‘good’_ interesting?” she called back, shoving the last of the kit away and under her bed. She would not change clothes.

“ _‘Good’_ interesting!” Howl exclaimed. "I've always had an appreciation for it but I have too many things in my possession to practice it."

“Oh.” Sophie responded, unsure of what to say to that. She supposed her oatmeal-colored room was the minimalist type. It was easier to have less. She was used to that. And she didn’t see the point of elaborate items or decor. Not for someone of her nature, anyway. She felt it came off far too... _loud_ , for someone like her. Calling dramatic attention to things insubstantial was unfavorable, to say the least. Perhaps if there was more substance...more depth...

But those were thoughts for a different day.

Sophie stood and went to her desk to gather her purse, only to notice a glimmering in the corner of her eye.

_'Oh.'_

The coat. His coat. Draped across the chair to her desk, shining and glimmering in all of it’s glory.

Visible.

Loud, in her minimalist room.

Sophie paused, lacking the heart and courage to turn and spy if Howl had seen the coat already. She chose instead to slowly look into the mirror further into the room against the wall, facing her and the doorway Howl was intended to be in.

She found his reflection lock eyes with her through the glass, a slow smile drawing across his face.

Sophie could feel her face burning as she stiltedly hoisted her purse onto her shoulders, awkwardly turning to face him.

“I see you have something of mine,” Howl said simply.

Sophie fumbled, unsure of how to respond without looking more odd than she already did.

“I...well, yes. I meant to give it back but I didn’t know...I didn’t have a way to reach you and my schedule became hectic so...I ended up safekeeping it. But you can have it back now, of course-!” She was quick to lift the coat and give it to him.

Howl’s hands were soon filled with his coat, but he deftly rearranged it to soar through the air before it sat back on top of Sophie’s shoulders. He pulled at the lapels a little, drawing it tight and warm around her. It was enough to make her go quiet.

He tilted his head, taking the sight of her in before making a decision.

“Keep it safe for a little longer?”

Sophie’s brows drew together. “But you _made_ this. And I’ve kept it too long already.”

“I like the look of it on you.”

Sophie’s words died in her throat and she froze, unsure of what to do or say.

“...”

Howl stepped across the doorway and into her dorm, impossibly big for the small space. He lifted the coat off of Sophie’s shoulders before primly folding it and placing it back onto the desk chair.

“It's a beautiful day. Are you ready?”

Sophie blinked, before nodding.

“Yes.”

Howl swept out of her little dorm and waited as Sophie locked up her dorm before leaving with her. They exited the narrow hallways of the dorms and went back onto the grounds.

Sophie still wasn't sure what to think of any of this, so she decided to try and go with the flow for the time being.

“So,” Sophie began. “Where are we going? The campus store, or the College Café?”

“I was thinking off-campus," Howl answered. "There’s a café that Calcifer and I really enjoy. I wanted to show you. Is that alright?”

“Oh!” Sophie wondered. “That sounds lovely. But...will we be able to get back in time for evening classes?”

The buses and trolleys off campus and into the city were notoriously wonderful for sightseeing, whilst simultaneously, wretchedly slow. Sophie had her fair share of trolley stories to last a lifetime. She did not anticipate on gaining any more.

“I know a faster way,” Howl offered.

He led them both to the campus parking spaces, leading Sophie through rows and rows of student and faculty vehicles.

Sophie wondered how well-off Howl actually was. She realized suddenly that she had never thought much of his origins, his family, or where he came from. If he had siblings, where he went to school, anything of a background nature, really. He had been such an interesting person all on his own that those other things seemed to escape her. He had that kind of effect she realized, a presence that was stark enough against the mundane to blot out all reason and sensibility.

Well. At least she was wondering now.

“Do you have a car?”

Howl winked.

“Not exactly.”

Sophie’s eyes widened as Howl stopped before a sleek, dangerous looking thing.

_'I'm not riding that.'_

“A motorcycle?” Sophie asked, a little shocked.

“Uh-huh! She rides like a dream. You can try her out.”

_'Am I really going to ride that?'_

“Oh, I really couldn’t...!”

“Here.”

Howl unlatched one of the helmets off the bike, securing it gently onto Sophie’s head.

“Chin up for me?” he asked.

Sophie found little effort to fight against the deeply lulling voice, no matter how much the bike put her on a curious edge. She obediently lifted her head and felt his nimble fingers secure the straps against the soft skin underneath her chin. After the audible clasping, Sophie felt his fingers trace gently down the skin of her throat and the beginnings of her collarbone, so fast it was almost dreamlike, before pulling away. The space left behind was enough to make Sophie’s knees buckle.

“That’s my girl.”

_Oh._

Howl strapped his own helmet on, seemingly unaware of Sophie’s sudden internal conundrum.

“Have you ridden before, Sophie?”

“N-no,” she stammered, still stuck on this entire situation being real and her being in it.

“Don’t worry, then. I’ll keep you safe. Put this on for me?"

Howl handed her an equally jet-black, leather motorcycle jacket from a hidden compartment on the vehicle, watching to make sure she put it on and zipped it all the way up. It was far too large for her, clearly made for someone like Howl, but she simply rolled up the sleeves and did her best not to swim in it too much. He uncovered matching leather gloves to go with it and slid them onto her hands delicately. Sophie had never felt someone handle her so carefully before, like something precious.

“What about you...?” Sophie inquired aloud.

“There’s only one jacket," Howl said. "And as the professional rider here, it’s my job to take care of you.”

_‘How noble, oh gallant professional rider,’_ Sophie joked to herself in her head.

“I feel like a turnip,” Sophie blurted instead.

“A safe turnip, hopefully...?” Howl wondered.

“I suppose.”

“Then I’m happy. Are you? Uncomfortable anywhere? Wishing we took a trolley, instead? We still can, you know.”

Sophie stood and thought for a moment. The leather slid against her skin, well-worn and smelling marvelous, much like its owner. The helmet secured her head so well that it was trapping her thoughts to her. The bike gleamed at her, and how it did _indeed_ scare her, but how it also sparked an odd sense of...thrill in her as well.

It almost felt like an adventure.

_'An adventure? Maybe I **will** ride that.'_

“No, I’m quite happy. A little excited, honestly.”

Howl beamed. “Great! What's life without some excitement? Let’s go!”

Sophie climbed on with Howl’s helping hand assisting her, moving to hold his middle as he slid on to seat before her. Being atop the bike felt a little higher than she expected it to, and the ground felt very far away.

Her common sense and daily routines, her monotony and schedules, all of it felt far away with him here.

She had yet to decide whether or not that was amazing, or catastrophic.

_'I guess I'll find out soon enough.'_

“How fast do you usually go on this thing?”

“Not _too_ fast.”

Sophie had about three seconds to think about how unpromising and unconvincing that sounded before Howl backed them out of the parking space, revved the engine, and launched them out of the lot and into the uknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sophie is trying to take more chances! Let's see where it lead her.


End file.
